


Omens

by Etched_in_Fire



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Calamity, Coerthas, Gen, pre-A Realm Reborn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 06:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10270835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: After the fall of Ala Mhigo, the rest of Eorzea sits in uncertainty, their eyes on the incoming Garlean forces.  While the politicians and lords squabble, the bystanders to their wars continue on, hoping to not fall into their crossfire.  The Coerthan N tribe is such a faction-- living humble lives in the highlands herding karakuls and aldgoats and trying to stay alive.  Unfortunately, as the gods would have it, no one escapes what has already been set in motion.  N'thaliah Xhin, six years in age at the time of the Battle of Silvertear Skies, bears witness to the end of an era for not only her people but for all of Eorzea.





	

 

            Coerthas was picturesque—a clear sky that was interrupted by nary a single cloud, wind that brought a refreshing breath to her lungs, and trees that decorated the landscape as far as the eyes could see.  She walked the craggy trail with naught but a shepherd’s crook in her hand, carved from an oak’s limb and passed along the women of her bloodline for generations.  Its base was worn but it kept her protected when the trail’s terrain became questionable.  Her feet and her legs were still clumsy. She was still learning herself and her surroundings. 

            Her pigtails bounced when she walked.  There was always a skip in her gait, no matter the circumstances.  Her eyes moved from the path before her to the ever blue sky, almost getting lost in its hue.  N’thaliah smiled at the sun and let it wash its light over her face for a moment before carrying on.  She tapped the staff against the dirt a few times near one of the straggling karakuls, clicking at it with her tongue so that it understood her meaning.  The creature hastened its pace, scurrying in with the others of its ilk.  Thaliah smiled at it and kept along her descent towards the lake.

            Her half-sister and half-brother accompanied her.  N’laani stood towards the back, catching any of the unruly flock that dared to wander away.  The lithe blonde wielded her staff like a club at times, jabbing towards the rebellious karakul with a sense of authority.  Thaliah wasn’t entirely certain that was how one was supposed to use their staff but she assumed her sister knew best anyways.  Laani and N’shir had been doing this for years now.  Taking the herd to the lakeside south of the village was a task the children often handled.  Thaliah still felt very new to the chore, even if she had been doing it for a few weeks now. 

            Shir was at the front, his brown hair tied back into a ponytail.  He positioned his staff across his back, letting his hands dangle upon it lazily.  The boy gave a loud yawn when he reached the bottom of the slope, turning back to look at his two sisters with gleaming orange eyes.

            “WE’RE HEEEERE!” he called enthusiastically and somewhere in the distance, a bird cawed and flew away.   Laani stared at him incredulously, her tail flitting back and forth.

“Loudmouth,” commented the blonde and Shir stuck his tongue out at her disdainfully. 

Thaliah followed the herd to the shore, where the water lapped against the dirt.  As Laani climbed the nearby boulders for a better vantage point, Thaliah watched the ripples on the lake’s surface.  The water was glassy and dark, sparkling the reflection of the sun back into the young Seeker’s eyes.  She squinted past it and saw a gathering of fish swimming through the lake.  They were minnows—too small to eat and too slippery to catch.  She rested back on her bum and let the breeze tickle through her hair.   

            Shir plopped down next to her, leaning back so that his head rested in the grass. “Whew!” the boy exclaimed, kicking his feet up.  The grass was cold, bitten by the wind but Thaliah found it pleasant enough to lay back with her half-brother.  He grinned at her and jabbed her roughly in the ribs.

            “Ow!” yelped Thaliah, recoiling and wrinkling her nose at the boy.  He giggled and made to do it again but she blocked him this time, grabbing his left hand, then his right.  If Shir tried to tell her to stop, it was lost amid his cackling as Thaliah wrestled with him on the ground. 

            “I’m gonna get you!” She declared boldly.

            He sent one of his stubby legs into her stomach but she loomed over him all the same, still dancing with his arms in attempts to block and stifle his ability to poke her.  Thaliah clenched her teeth, brow furrowed with concentration.

            “Ge’offa me!” Shir said through his laughs. 

            “Never!” Thaliah replied back haughtily, a glitter of triumph in her emerald eyes as they rolled about the grass.  He twisted his torso about to gain the upper hand, trying to push her back. They grappled a moment longer before Laani’s voice cut through their battle.

            “What’s that?”

            Thaliah and Shir went still in the same split second, their eyes lifting from each other towards their half-sister, who merely pointed upward.  She heard the sound it made before she saw it.  It was a gentle moan, accompanied by the grinding of gears and a whoosh unlike anything she had ever heard.  Thaliah’s eyes stretched wide with wonder as the metallic hull passed overhead, propelled by jets and fire and leaving naught but a fading hum in her ears.  The karakuls screamed their protest in unison.  Laani shushed them but they merely continued their racket, until Shir gave a sharp whistle and the herd calmed itself.  They settled back into grazing and Thaliah picked up her staff with a thoughtful gleam in her eyes.

            “What’s that?” Thaliah questioned the other two.  Dragons occasionally passed overhead, but she had never seen a dragon that looked like that before.  Her mind drifted to the occasional airship that passed overhead… but even that was much, much different to the thing that had just flown by.

            “I dunno,” Shir said, scratching behind one of his ears. “But I think that… hey!” His vivid eyes widened and the boy pointed towards one of the karakuls.

            It stood apart from the others, still bleating softly and stamping the ground.  Shir took three steps towards it and the karakul bolted, eyes the size of apples and a shrill cry coming from it that made Thaliah wince. 

            “Nice,” Laani snapped at Shir.  As she began to climb down from her boulder perch, she called over her shoulder, “Go get it!  We can’t let it get lost!”

            Thaliah’s feet responded to the order far quicker than her mind did.  Staff in hand, she sprinted after the frightened karakul, its small body pressed low to the ground for speed.  If Shir was behind her, she could not hear him—only the creature’s loud cry.  Her own footsteps were lost in the chaotic symphony that followed.  Shir’s shout was an undertone.  Laani’s cry was overshadowed.  Her frail weight and momentum carried her downhill from the lakeside, out of sight of the humble village of the N tribe. 

The karakul made for a cluster of trees—shadowed shelter from the openness of the highlands.  She followed the creature without a thought.  The branches kissed the sides of her face roughly as she barreled into the wilderness.  Her smaller legs could scarcely hope to keep up with the frightened flight of the karakul, but she had youthful energy on her side.  She saw the woolly creature vanish under a log and dove underneath it.  Her back scraped against the wood, prodded roughly by a branch, but her furs suffered the bulk of the hit.

            When the karakul was out of sight, the miqo’te girl realized how far and how long she had run, the dizziness taking over her for a few moments.  She sat down onto the leaf-ridden floor of the thicket with a huff, her legs stuck out before her.  Her ears went up to listen for Shir or Laani, but she heard nothing but the natural sounds of the highlands and the fear began to creep in.  There was no birdsong to cheer her up, no chuckle of a nearby stream.  Thaliah could hear things stirring and she briefly wondered if she had managed upon a dragon’s lair.

            She picked herself up after a moment.  Fear told her to turn back, but suddenly, she was not sure where “back” was.  The sun told her it was to her left, but that conflicted with where her mind had told her.  How long had she been running?  The young girl could not say.  In all of her thoughts, she found herself coming back to the inevitability of being lost.  The girl took a deep breath and began to creep along the feral path.

Her thoughts came like flashes of lightning—scattered and sending tremors that shook her to her very core.  She thought of her mother and the scolding she would receive.  She thought of the dragons that lurked about the highlands and the other vicious monsters.  Scurried feet broke her train of thought and she saw the karakul from afar.  Thaliah puckered her lips and gave a low whistle to get its attention.  It turned and ran further in.

“C’mon…!,” Thaliah hissed under her breath.  She bent a branch out of her way and followed the karakul as best as she could. 

The shadows crept in upon her, casting strange shapes along the littered ground and the ancient tree trunks.  Thaliah clutched her staff close to her chest, her boots crumpling leaves underfoot.  Upon pausing, she realized that her boots were not the only ones making noises and whirled around with a high-pitched squeak.

She was eye-level with a leg—concealed by silvery armor and belonging to a hyur man that looked to be in his thirties.  Thaliah’s face paled and she held out the staff in front of her like a sword, trying to cease the trembling in her legs.  The man looked genuinely surprised at this, staring at her with a set of eyes that reminded her of the dark-water lake.  His scruff plagued his chin and neck, giving him an unruly and unkempt look.  A strange visor obscured the top half of his face.  His torso was mostly veiled in a robe of black and red.  There was a twitch of a smile on his lips and after a moment of staring, he was overwhelmed with laughter.

“Are you gonna club me to death with that?” the man asked, gesturing to the staff.

“M…Mhm!” Thaliah nodded fervently.

His laughter erupted once more, but it sounded good to her ears, not caustic and biting.  Her ears went back at first, but began to perk up over time… one then the other.  She stared at him, looking over his dark hair and his intense eyes, then lowered the staff. 

“Martinus, you’re scaring her,” a tall woman huffed from behind him, adjusting her spectacles.  She wore red and black cloth over her glinting silver armor, like the men that Thaliah saw from afar occasionally.  The men that her mother had told her to stay away from.

  The lady’s lips were painted ruby red and her eyes bore so much make up that they stole away from her brown irises.  Her cheeks were dabbed with rosy pink, which stood out sorely against her snowy skin.  The woman daintily brushed the man aside, bending over the young N’thaliah Xhin with a good-natured smile.

“It’s just too funny,” the man wheezed.

“Never mind him,” the woman said delicately. “What are you doing out here?”

Thaliah felt intimidation reek from the woman like a bad perfume, but she managed to meet the lady’s eye with a bashful blush about her freckled features. “Well, um…” began the young girl. “I lost my karakul.”

“Your… karakul,” the woman repeated, but it was clear that the lady had no idea what the word meant.

“She’s small,” Thaliah tried to explain, gesturing to where she thought the creature would stand next to her leg.  “And has lots of black wool.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen your… Car-kul?  Carackle?” the lady frowned then shook her head. “But I’m sure we can all look together and try to find her.”

The woman spoke with succor to her tone, flamboyant and yet with swanlike grace.  Her youthful eyes searched the massive lady.  A helpful, blessing of a cloud passed overheard and brushed back the darkness that shadowed the crevices of her face.  It also gave way to the more delicate parts of her features—a mole near her chin and a glistening stone that shone like starlight between her eyes.  Thaliah was enamored by it for a moment before she remembered herself, blushing slightly at the cheeks.

“O-okay,” Thaliah said.

“Can you just… do me one favor, though, really quickly?” the lady asked her, bending down so that she was close to the Seeker’s face.  Thaliah could smell her breath—hot, musky, and unpleasant.  She kept a straight face in the name of manners, but inwardly, the child was wilting as a flower did during the first snow of the year.

“Sure,” the miqo’te’s head bobbed up and down.

“Can you just put this on?” the lady had something in her hand.  It was strange, built of metal and had red glassy gems that glowed.  Thaliah might have called it a necklace but it was a far cry from beautiful.  Her brows furrowed at it and she took it into her small hands.  Irises skirting over the necklace’s strange, angular design and pattern, she let her fingers trace over it a few times.  There was something strangely heavy about the necklace that she disliked.

“Why?” the girl asked, looking from the woman to the man.  She noticed he had a sparkly gem between his eyes too and felt a pang of envy.  She wanted one too.  Maybe if she pressed a river stone into her head hard enough, she could have one too….

“I just want to see what a pretty girl would look like if they wore this pretty necklace,” the woman said with a honey-sweet smile.

Thaliah’s eyes glittered and she turned the necklace over in her hands.  There was something that just seemed too bulky and off about the design.  She reasoned to herself that perhaps it was meant for adults, who could lift much heavier things, yes, even with their necks.  Her youthful mind worked out any doubts soon after and she looked at the lady with the gem between her eyes.

She didn’t _look_ like a monster, at least.

Her feeble hands let the stranger steal the necklace away and the lady began to guide the chain about her nape.  Thaliah did not see or hear the arrow as it was loosed.  She felt its kiss in the hands of the tall woman.  She felt the hands jerk suddenly and the necklace dug into her flesh for a split second before it fell onto the forest floor lifelessly.  The lady stared at her with a feather-nocked arrow shattering the gem between her eyes, blood weeping from the wound.  Thaliah gave a scream and the lady’s companion spun around, fumbling for something at his belt that she had never seen before.

When he wielded it, the creation made a sound like thunder, shaking Thaliah’s world and sending tears to her eyes.  The small girl blinked and she was on the ground—unscathed but her heart raced faster than a fleeing hare.  Smoke pillared from the weapon’s open mouth and her nose detected it briefly on the Coerthan wind.  She pressed herself hard into the dirt, her fingers gripping the fallen leaves and grass.

Rustling amid the trees caught her attention.  She watched the first painted warrior break through the underbrush with a spear in hand.  Her heart nearly stopped at the realization that her mother was leading the assault, her face painted with midnight streaks.  At her left and right were two more warriors—huntresses with age and wisdom on their side.

The man’s weapon roared twice more but N’anakhya Taha and her two companions overcame him in a matter of seconds.  Snarling with the ferocity of a mother bear, Anakhya jammed the head of her spear between the plates of the man’s armor.  His weapon fired twice more and the young Seeker heard nothing but a shrill ringing noise.  Her eyes shut tightly as she waited for it to stop, her hands clawing at her deaf ears. 

A set of arms seized her.  The child struggled for a moment before she opened her eyes.  One of the huntresses had lifted her from the ground, looking at her with surprise and horror.  Yet, despite her clearly distraught expression, the huntress held her close, protectively, voice calm. “You’re safe.”

“Thank the Sun Lady,” said the other huntress.

“Thaliah!” Anakhya exhaled, emotion lacing her tone.

Her daughter’s head swung in the direction her name had been called.  Anakhya was standing over the body of the man named Martinus, her spear still embedded into his neck.  She found herself unable to look away from the mess, her eyes stinging with tears.

“She’s unharmed, Anakhya,” the first huntress said.

N’anakhya Taha’s shoulders sagged with relief.  She turned over the man’s body and pulled her spear from him.  There was an unspoken disgust in her violet irises when she looked at the two corpses but the moment her eyes found Thaliah, they softened.  She reached out for her daughter and received her in a warm embrace, her nose nestled into Thaliah’s hair with a gentle inhale.

“Mama…” Thaliah felt her throat and eyes burn with dawning fear and sorrow.  Her hands clutched the beaded necklace her mother wore always, and dug into the fur of her huntress’s garments.  “I didn’t mean… I’m…” She erupted into tears.

Anakhya held her close, a simple “Shhhh” escaping her lips.  Her hands crawled over her daughter’s back, shivering ever so slightly.  Thaliah pushed her face into the warmth of her mother’s neck, until she could see nothing.  Her mother’s voice was radiant but commanding, directing the other two huntresses. “Kaka, check the surrounding area for more.  Khernji, are they both dead?”

“Yes, sister,” Khernji’s voice cut through the darkness.  Thaliah could hear the sound of feet and presumed that Kaka had departed as per her orders.

“What is that on the ground?” Anakhya inquired and Thaliah turned to see Khernji holding up the necklace that had been offered to her.  “It seems odd.”

“I know not,” Khernji said, tail lashing.  It was clear in her mismatched purple eyes that she disliked the jewelry. “But it smells of Garlean wickedness.”

Anakhya’s grip on her daughter tightened. “Dispose of it.  Please.  I will return Thaliah home.”  Her vicelike hold on the young Seeker did not change in the slightest when she turned to depart the foul scene.  The huntress had taken two steps when something gave her pause and her ears lifted. 

“Anakhya!” a voice cut through the woods and Thaliah perked up.  She saw Laani running towards them, her staff still in hand.  The blonde stopped to catch her breath.  “You’re okay…!”

“I told you to wait in the village,” Anakhya said angrily.

Laani’s ears shot back, “I-I know… I just couldn’t.  I wanted to make sure she was okay!”

“She’s fine.  Now, come with me back to the village,” Anakhya answered, her shortness in tone emphasizing her displeasure. 

Without being bidden, Khernji began the Rites of the Dead, sprinkling some of the rich, dark soil upon the dead bodies of the two silver-clad warriors.  She took to a knee and began to recite.  Anakhya, still clinging to her daughter, began to walk away but Thaliah let her eyes fall onto the bloody scene one last time.  The woman and her friend lay with lifeless, glossy eyes—like the deer that the huntresses brought in.  It was so alien to see it on the face of a non-animal and she tore her eyes away.  Khernji’s voice carried into the air, bidding them farewell from the thicket.

“Shazafa, rescue these souls for they, like all creatures, yearn for the embrace of the celestial heavens.  Maiden of Life and Light, by the hand of the N tribe have these fallen and to You, we present their lives.  May they know the radiance of your cleansing, virtuous light and may your scales weigh them justly.   Honor to You and honor to those who walk Your ways.  Honor to the tribe in which walks this land.  Honor—”

Her words faded in the distance and Anakhya led the two children to where the woods met the highlands.  Laani stayed close by.  Thaliah looked down to her sister, wanting to say something to her.  No words could cover the emotions that rocked her tiny frame, however, and thus she kept clinging to Anakhya until the village was in sight.

A small gathering of tribe members had lined the outskirts of town, anxiously looking at the three upon their approach.  Thaliah saw Shir standing next to his raven-haired mother, his eyes wide with surprise.  Some of the other huntresses stood nearby, hair braided in preparation for their hunts and faces painted black in representation of the incoming death.  N’taha, one of the tribe’s elders, greyed with age and wrinkled heavily, lifted a hand in greeting.  He approached, leaning on a staff with bear fangs strung about its head. 

“How fares your hunt, daughter?” asked the creaky old man.

“The Garleans lie dead.  Kaka is scouting for others and Khernji is performing the Rites,” Anakhya said, her voice rising in volume.  There were murmurs among the rest of the people, but no one spoke up to question her further.

“Garleans.  This bodes ill indeed,” Taha said once the crowd had quietened down. “They have grown bold since the conquest of Ala Mhigo.”

“The elezen can deal with them,” huffed a huntress nearby. “They have their cannons and walls.”

“Walls cannot stop the airships,” another huntress disagreed.  “All of Eorzea may not be able to fell the Garleans.”

“If they come here and the Ishgardians fall, what will happen to the tribe?” an older woman fretted.

“Our hunting grounds may be taken.  And our herds, destroyed!”

“Will the Ishgardians even fight?  Their war with the dragons continues ever on.”

“Silence!” a voice cut through the chorus of frantic Seekers.

N’affeli Ynne walked with a cane, her silvery hair flowing almost to her waist in a cascade.  Eyes like twin sapphires, they glittered in the sunlight, and rested around a myriad of freckles.  Her tail nearly dragged the ground, its fur as abundant as snowflakes during a blizzard.  She held a cane not unlike that of Taha’s, but its head was crested with an orb-like gem, refined over time and by the elements.  She was the oldest of the tribe, having seen countless winters and witnessed a myriad of lives—from birth to death.

Elder Affeli cut through the crowd like a knife through butter, her free hand gesturing to the good people of the N tribe.  The bracelets about her wrists clink together softly, their beads giving her a melody to her hobbled gait.  Age had not hunched her back over, and so she stood tall amid the tribe members, her pure eyes sweeping over them like a northern breeze.

“Standing here in panic will do us no favors.  We fall victim to our own hubris when we let the fear soak into our flesh.  Fear not, for the Sun Lady has already seen what will come of this Garlean invasion.  She sees til the end of time itself and her benevolence will guide us down the path we have always meant to walk,” Affeli said.

“And if that path leads to death?” challenged a huntress by the name of N’zol.  Her ginger brown hair was tied back and her face was painted crimson— a mark of fire and disobedience.  “Will we walk that path?”

Affeli’s features softened for a moment, “Our fate has ever been to serve the Sunmother.  She will not lead us astray.  Her divine tests are to weed out those of little faith.  The stalwart will prevail.”

“If she’s so caring, mayhaps she would spare us this grief,” Zol snapped back.

“Quiet, girl,” N’xhin Nunh made his appearance.  He stood like a king over his people, regally painted around his green irises and clad in a deerskin cape, fashioned to his shirt with bone charm clasps.  “Shazafa has kept our people safe from harm for centuries.  It is through her will that we breathe.  If we have become tainted, then let her wash us away!”

Xhin’s words rang across the gathering.  No one moved or even seemed to breathe for a solid minute.  Anakhya bent over and Thaliah hopped onto the grass, her wide green eyes moving from the various tribe members.  Her father bore no tolerance for naysayers of the Sunmother, and the expression upon his grizzled face made Thaliah shrink into her mother’s leg.  Zol stepped back into the masses with a slight bow of her head, but her lip curled with disgust at the nunh.  Xhin watched her with a look that dared her to lash out.  His hand sat on the handle of his throwing axe at his side but the red-painted huntress did not take the bait. 

“Now, mind you all, the Great Lady has spoken to me of tribulations in our near future,” Affeli continued as though nothing had happened.  “We will see sorrow, feel grief down to our core, and we will be tempted to doubt.  But it is through our faith that we will find freedom.  Salvation.  We must stand united in the face of danger.  Even as the stars fall from the sky.”

Xhin looked slightly nervous at this, but he did not let the cracks in his demeanor shatter his strong front.  Instead, the nunh looked to Affeli, then Taha.  “We must convene with the rest of the elders soon.”  He pauses before saying to the rest of the tribe.  “If any Garleans come near the village, do not hesitate to kill them.  All children must stay near the village at all times. Any who break this rule will suffer strict consequences.”

She felt his eyes on her and Thaliah averted her gaze.  When she blinked, she saw the corpses of the two Garleans.  Had they even done anything wrong?  She thought of the necklace that the lady had tried to give her.  One of her hands moved to her neck, where it should have sat before she was killed.  There were questions that swam about her mind, but her legs, tongue, and mind were all fogged with exhaustion. 

The tribe members dispersed one-by-one under a sky fraught with clouds.  Laani’s mother fetched her and fussed incessantly upon their departure.  Thaliah felt the wind tickle the back of her neck and looked to her own mother as she guided her towards their wooden abode.  Coerthas bloomed around them and in the distance, down the hillside, Thaliah could see where some of the huntresses were tending to the flock.  Affeli’s words about stars falling from the sky made her heart race.  Her youthful mind tried to think of what sort of trouble could come for the tribe that they could not prevail through.  Death came frequently to the highlands—she had seen people die before, but not violently, not until that fateful day.   But no matter what sadness came, the tribe always rose.  Her mother always triumphed—her mother, who would be there to protect her forever. 

Forever… and ever.

Three days passed and there was a disturbance in the air.  A message came a week after that and it was said that the Garleans had not prevailed against the dragon-king, Midgardsormr. Coerthas was saved, the tribe thought.  Yet, despite this joy, Mor Dhona, the neighboring land, was ruined. The tribe rejoiced in their supposed salvation.  Yet during the festivities, Thaliah noticed that the Elder Affeli slipped away into the dead of night.  There was enigma in her intention and a darkness in her eyes.   She stole away down the hill, until the shadows across the highlands consumed her.

The fires swirled into the night as the dancers performed and the drummers set a quickened pace.  Embers trickled upwards, to the heavens in honor of the Sun Lady’s royal daughter, the Moon Priestess, who illuminated the sky every night.  As the singers lifted their voices, Anakhya squeezed her daughter tightly to her stomach.

“In a few days, it will be time for you to begin training,” Anakhya said, serene eyes focused on the camp fire. 

“Training?  What training?” Thaliah’s ears went up with surprise.

“Vhreesh-kai,” the huntress answered, her fingers combing through her daughters long, brown hair.  “The art of the unarmed, passed from generation to generation since the Days of Old.”

“Am I gonna be strong like you?” Thaliah inquired to her mother.

Her question warranted a chuckle from Anakhya. “No. You’ll be stronger.”

The daughter and her mother watched the fires as they swirled.  One by one, the chanters let their voices turn to ash in the air and an elder stood up to begin to recite one of the Firesongs—ancient tales of the tribe passed down through oral presentation.  Thaliah listened for awhile, but the thought of great battles of old just reminded her of the corpses in the highland forest.  She shivered.  The adults said that the crisis was averted.  Yet their eyes haunted her as much as their fell intentions.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, right?” Thaliah asked quietly

“Yes,” her mother answered with certainty.

And for the next ten years, it would be fine. 

 

 


End file.
